Darkness: The Final Battle
by BellsNGems
Summary: Dark times lie ahead of us and there will be a time when we must choose what is easy and what is right." - Albus Dumbledore. Harry realizes the easy way is best. He has 1 mission. The Dark side of Potter. Read the fic that will try even your morals.
1. Chapter 1

Hey all! Well, this is yet _another_ fic I wrote back in 2005, and I'm rewriting it (and finishing it now) finally! Hmm...'05 must have been my year :P anyway this story will be much more sinister. Heads up, you know :) Also, because it was written in '05, it is obviously not compatible with HBP or DH, since it was written long before they came out ...There's other stuff I want to say but can't for the life of me remember, hmm...Blah! Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 1: Lost Soul**

Everyone is dead.

Slowly it all came to an end...

Starting from Ron—that's not mentioning all the others before him, like Cedric and Sirius, but that's old news. Then Molly and Arthur. They had tried to protect Ginny...Charlie died taking the blow for Fred....Dumbledore had died long before...

The Grangers...._dead_....

Half of the Light side is also gone....

_How can there be more to live for?_ He should just give in. Yes, that's the right thing to do. That will stop all the killing....all the hurting....torturing....

Everyone is dead...._But not her_...._She's still there_..._I shouldn't think about her_...._She'll end up dying_..._just like the rest of them_.....

Too numb from pain; he feels nothing more. Too much loss causes too much pain, so much it goes past endurance...to the point of complete numbness if not insanity....It's irreversible.

"You were meant to join me, Harry Potter," he says in his deathly whispering hiss.

_She said I always had choices_....

"Yes," Harry says flatly. "You know my price."

"Of course," a hissing reply. "_Not to hurt her_...Love makes you a fool Potter."

"I don't care. You know the price," he solemnly repeats.

"I've got no intentions of doing so. By all means, I must say, we need her alive," he says, sitting in his throne-like chair, facing the fire.

"Explain?" Harry demands coldly.

Voldemort sneers. "You've got a mission, Harry."

"I'm aware, but until now you haven't exactly said what that is, _Voldemort_," Harry says icily.

"_Her_..." he hisses completely unfazed, his blood red eyes glinting with manic malice.

"What about her?" Harry asks even more coldly and almost through clenched teeth.

"You've got to get her," Voldemort says simply.

"I can't do that," Harry says flatly.

"You will..."

"Voldemort, you don't understand. They protect her like mad—"

"_They _don't know where you are. _They _think you are hiding somewhere..._grieving _your losses."

"I am not," Harry says quickly. Voldemort's mad if he thinks that Harry can just walk in. Not after everything that's happened.

It just doesn't matter anymore. _I shouldn't think of her_.

"I know," Voldemort says with an unpleasant smile stretching his skeletal face, making it taut. "It will be a simple task. You needn't worry too much. After all, they would never suspect _you_," he said softly.

"You can't go bursting into the Order's Headquarters."

"Yes you can. You know where it is, do you not?"

"Yes, but—" Harry began. He was about to say that he could not possibly tell him where the Grimmauld Place is, as he is not the Secret Keeper, but he then felt a familiar sensation in his head...memories reeling...He did not fight it, besides, it was too powerful as it was to try and stop it.

"Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place..." Voldemort said, looking at the rug at his feet. Harry was right in thinking Voldemort had just extracted certain information from him. He had seen more or less what Grimmauld looked like. It wouldn't be too difficult to figure out its whereabouts. It was what he was looking for. "I shall have to speak with Bella."

"She won't know where it's at," Harry said simply, his hands clasped behind his back.

"You are probably right. The Blacks didn't even let their own family members know where they lived." Harry nodded at Voldemort's claim. "....But you do." Voldemort said smiling his unpleasant smile once more. "We plan a surprise attack. I leave that to you. I'm sure you know the place well, seeing as you own it....We will break utter chaos. We will fight. She won't know you were a part of it...at least not until we have her here."

Harry nodded and dismissed himself. Voldemort was right. Getting her out of there would be a simple enough task.....

* * *

**REVIEW!**


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, as you are aware I'm rewriting this fic, and I'm trying to finish it all by tonight! Tomorrow at the latest. That means there will be steady updates from no one, hopefully. :)

For those of you awaiting something for Taken (a Twilight fanfic) I have written a couple of chapters, but it's steadily getting harder for me to continue it, but i promise I will! I just want to write a few more before I continue it! However, I am getting A LOT done this week! :)

* * *

**Chapter 2: Underground**

In his small, comfortable cottage, Harry sat on an arm chair. He took a sip from a glass of firewhisky he held onto. The empty liquor bottle by his foot, next to a pair of legendary wire glasses. He started at the roaring fire letting his thoughts take him over.

Wouldn't this be the most comfortable place to be with her? Yes, yes it would. There was a hidden room under the little place. You could only Apparate or Portkey in there. Harry had visited the room before; It was a bleak, stone room, almost nothing there, but it served as a safe place. One he was certain would come in handy, and now it finally would have purpose.

Harry swallowed his last drink of firewhisky; it didn't really intoxicate him...Not anymore anyway. He stood up, a bit shaky at first, and Apparated in the underground room.

His face screwed up somewhat in distaste. He looked around the place; His nose wrinkled as he ran a hand through his jet black, messy hair. A _Scourgifying _Spell would do the trick on the place and the tiny bathroom adjacent to it. At least there was no more mildew on the walls, and it no longer smelled musty.

Harry had put a four-poster, queen-sized bed in there a couple of days before, but that had been it, and now that he looked closer he felt he should conjure up some more furniture because this, already bleak, room didn't suit too well with just a bed. He put a wooden desk and chair in a corner, near the bed, and a wardrobe opposite that. There was really nothing else he could think of that would be absolutely necessary, so he Apparated back into his small living room.

As he stood near the fire, he felt something burning his left wrist. He lifted his black sleeve and saw the very thin, silver bracelet over his wrist.

Voldemort was calling him....

He quickly Apparated to the Riddle House.

"You called?" Harry asked Voldemort, who was in his same throne-like chair as before.

"Have you thought of the planned attack?" He asked, quickly getting to the point.

"Yes," Harry answered.

"And? What will you need?" Voldemort asked nonchalantly.

"About a dozen Death Eaters or so," Harry replied just as casually. "Should be enough to overthrow, and make it out fairly quickly. Never do too many members reside in that place at once."

"I'll give you fifteen," Voldemort replied. Harry shrugged. After a slight pause Voldemort asked, "where will you be taking her?"

"The cottage."

"Ah, the Underground, I deduce?" Harry nodded. "Well, you must hurry," Voldemort said. "I've got much more pressing matters after this."

"The last Horcrux?"

"Yes." Voldemort said simply.

"Why do you insist in not telling me what it is?" Harry asked in a low, somber voice. It seemed that was the only tone his voice was capable of these days.

"I don't yet fully trust you, Potter," Voldemort said simply.

"I've told you many times before that I don't care. I'll follow you, just stop the hurting them and end the war," Harry said, breathing a little heavily, but only slightly.

"And I see the truth staring at me."

"Then—?"

"You are prone to change your mind often, Potter. With me it does not work that way—"

"Yes, yes, I know. Service for life, or death," Harry said a bit impatiently. "I'm aware." Frankly, he didn't care.

"Yes," Voldemort hissed. "And your tendencies makes you so...unpredictable." Harry said nothing. Voldemort continued, "can you capture her this evening, no, tonight, at midnight." It was not a question or request, although it was worded like one. The way he spoke made it an order.

Harry nodded.

"Excellent," Voldemort whispered. "Think things carefully. I expect a full report right after. My Death Eaters will Apparate four blocks, west of your home...Remember no one knows where you are at but I." Harry nodded; he did not need this reminder. "I will leave you a Portkey with Theodore Knott." Harry nodded one last time and Apparated to his home again.

Everything was ready.

No excuse.

* * *

**X X X **

It was almost eleven pm now, and still Harry sat in his armchair once more. No firewhisky in hand this time.

It's so hard to be _Harry Potter_. The world seemed to, no, it _did_, ask more from him. More than he could stand....It had all started with the killings.

He had watched every single one of them die. Every single one.

If he could just take it all back. If he could at least take back all the love he felt for her. Was it even love? Harry didn't exactly know. But if he could only just take back ever feeling any sort of emotion, things would be so much easier.

Everything would have been easier if he would of died sixteen years ago when he was a year old and Voldemort had come to claim his life.

He felt ashamed to feel this way, sometimes. But then he remembered that he had been fighting a war that he knew he was destined to lose, and it was the worst thing anyone could ever do. At times it was so hopeless he sometimes just wanted to off himself himself, rather than wait for Voldemort to eventually do so.

Harry looked at the old clock on his wall: 11: 23 pm

His thoughts drifted to the person he loved....Again, was this love? Was it just desire? He remembered her face..._Beautiful _is the only word for it....Her body....Sculpted pure perfection....Her sweet kisses....Harry leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes....Her sweet kisses; Harry touched his dry lips, remembering how soft hers were.

He does love her. So much he'd do anything to have her near...._Even this_....If only she knew.

An image of her hung in his mind....If only she knew....She'd never ever want to see him again.

Harry could not stand that.

He wondered if he could ever feel this way again. The answer comes to him almost immediately...._No_.

"You've got to hold it in," he whispers to himself. _This time_.

It's almost too painful to dwell on her. Tonight is only the beginning of his goal. She is his goal. Suddenly another batch of thoughts made its way into his head. They are of only one person. _It's too hard to stop them from coming_, he thought as he put on his black cloak. It was now half past eleven and it was time he to leave.

When he walked out of the wooden door of his little home, the cottage disappeared instantly, but he paid it no mind as even more images circled in his mind.

Misty, far away images of the way she looked in her dress robes at the Yule Ball were foremost in his head. It had been the first time he had seen her in any sort of new light. She had looked so elegant and graceful. It was the first time he had ever felt anything different for her. It was frightening at the time, how strongly he had felt in that moment.

Different images entered his mind now. Images of how sad and beautifully innocent she looked when she cried all those times. Harry had barely been there to comfort her when she grieved over her dead parents, and at the time that had hurt him because he knew he would have served even a bit of comfort for her and he was not there to lend a comforting shoulder to her. But Harry had not been in a position to drop everything to run to her in her time of need. No, it was this stupid war that kept him from ever having a life and enjoying her, the object of all his love.

His gaze hardened as he walked down the empty dirt road, looking for all the world like an evil menace with his dark cloak billowing behind him, and his hood masking his hair, but not the hard eyes or pale, luminous skin of his face. He pulled his cloak closer around him as it was a chilly night and as he did so an image of her blushing a tint of light pink accosted him right then and there. It was the same shade that would grace her features whenever he'd say something nice to her, or joined Ron and made fun of her ways.

Another image of her blushing nearly red came to him. It had been that night in their common room about a month back and he had found himself kissing her lips tenderly. He had left a lingering kiss on her forehead when he had put one of his hands on her thigh. She seemed to crumble under his touch.

Harry's mouth twitched.

The look on her face had given him the animalistic urge to rip her clothes off. He had restrained himself, that time. If he saw her that way again he knew he wouldn't be able to hold it in....He didn't even think he would try. She was born to be his. He knew it.

.................

**Review! and I promise next chapter comes soon! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, so i didn't get any reviews for my last chapter, it made me a bit sad, but that's okay because i'm still going to keep posting. someone will review it, someday. :)

I also know it feels a bit slow at the moment, but trust me, this story will get good :) don't lose faith Xx

* * *

**Chapter 3: Midnight**

This was it: Midnight.

Harry had caught up with the awaiting Death Eaters after walking four blocks west of the cottage. The night was completely deserted, downright creepy, yet oddly satisfying. He _liked _walking down the dark, empty streets.

The village didn't have many houses. Indeed it was a handful of cottages and small buildings scattered in a large piece of land, so they were very far from each other. Harry decided four blocks was a very long walk, so he walked one block to help him think. Thinking was, after all, something inescapable.

His mind focused on his future. He wondered if he even had one. More importantly did he have one along side Hermione...? Or was his future something as inescapable as his past? So full of _death_..._destruction_..._depression._

Wow, the three D's to complete a miserable life, he solemnly joked to himself.

Couldn't everything just be easy. Not even easy, but just a bit _simpler_? If only he could just say and get what he wanted.

__

'I want to be with Hermione, have little babies, have Ron and the rest of the Weasleys' with me, be an Auror...and be happy for the rest of my life...I want my parents alive and Sirius back. And I want the world to be at peace once and for all...'

Wouldn't everything be greater if all this was somehow true? He certainly thought so.

All this was everything he wanted and nothing that he actually had. What it was was a lot of wants and wishful thinking. It just wasn't going to happen. What a bleak life. Was there any way of escaping it?

He kicked a black rock in his path to the side with a grimace on his face. He felt a cold wind caress his jet black hair, and he closed his dark, alluring green eyes, sighing.

Could this possibly be what he had to look forward to everyday until Voldemort decided it was time for him to die? Would Harry let Him kill him? Yes, Harry would. Perhaps it would be better to just quit while he was ahead.

He sighed once more and in gathering his surroundings he realized his block was up, and while thinking many things, he Apparated the rest of the way.

He made it to the dark street where he knew number Twelve Grimmauld Place to be. Harry Potter looked up the building as it manifested in front of his eyes. The night was completely dark, but he took no chances and used a Put-Outer to extinguish the weak street lamps.

He knew the Death Eaters would not be able to see the house once Harry could, so he would go up to the place and ring the door bell, once it opened, the Death Eaters would be able to see the inside of the house.  
He had told Voldemort's followers where to stand, which was a small distance back. Though quite reluctant to follow his orders, they did so anyway. Harry didn't give a damn what they wanted for far better things occupied his mind.

He had only one mission for now. _To get her out_.

"Harry!?" The man who opened the door had a wheezy voice; Harry didn't know him, he supposed this man was someone new to the Order, or someone he had never seen during his previous stays in the Black home. The man continued in a stammering voice, "but–but–I thought they said no one knew where you—" The man never finished his sentence. He had been stunned by Knott.

The fifteen Death Eaters charged inside, only to discover there was no one in the room. Harry could hear some men shouting upstairs; Sirius' mum's portrait was still there, apparently, because it sounded like they were trying to close the curtains—

"Oy, is that you Mundungus!?" Harry distinctly heard somebody else shouting from somewhere up the stairs. Harry didn't bother answering because suddenly a door burst open and many people came out. Everyone on the top landing froze and stared at the opposite group standing next to the front door, and literally a split second later they all began firing spells to each other.

Harry heard the Stunning Spell being cried by many faceless people; the Petrifying Jinx, and many other blurry curses and muffled words, as he ran straight for the stairs; his black cloak billowing behind him. As he climbed the steps three at a time he ran straight into Lupin and other members he knew vaguely. The other members of the Order went flying down the steps towards the battle, not even stopping to look at Harry, but Lupin stared intently in Harry's face, remarking internally at the younger man's appearance. The sunken cheeks and dark eye circles.

"Harry what are you doing?" He didn't pause for an answer but instead took Harry in his arms for a brief hug before continuing. "Thank Merlin you're back. Everyone's been going mad trying to find you." He said very fast. "Stay here!" he ordered, his voice alarmed. Harry saw him dashing down the steps, but he could care less about Lupin and everyone else downstairs. He was closer to her now. He reached the third landing and saw her; her back facing him.

"…No! Stay where you are!" she shouted to someone else, trying to close the door. "Keep close to your wand! And stay safe!"

"No! You can't go down there alone! I'm coming with you!" Harry recognized Ginny's voice. She was on the other side of the door in the room beyond it. Hermione was still trying to close the door on her.

"I said no, Ginny! Please just stay safe! I'm going to go help!" She was panic stricken, Harry could tell by her shrilly voice. She gripped her wand in hand firmly and charmed the door closed and put a shield around it.

She turned around and ran, her wand held aloft. Harry stared at her, unable to rip his vision from her, even if he had wanted to. She couldn't see Harry, he was on the opposite side of the dark landing, hidden by the shadows.

"_Hermione don't go_!" Ginny shouted, pounding behind the locked door.

"Ginny stay! Do anything to keep yourself away and safe! I have to help," Hermione said looking over her shoulder at the door she left behind, and sounding close to tears. "I have to help! They could kill us all," she whispered in anguish more so to herself.

She turned her head around just in time to see Harry in front of her but not fast enough to stop herself from running straight into him. He acted quickly and gripped her upper arms before she tossed over. Her eyes became very round as a lock of brown hair fell into them. Even through the semi-darkness Harry could see the rich honeyed color of her eyes. Eyes that looked straight into him.

"Harry!" she said breathlessly. "Harry you're back!" Her eyes became very sparkly as she flung her arms around him. Harry closed his eyes and held her, embracing her warmth and realizing he had been cold. He wished and wondered if he could stay that way forever. He didn't care if there were people fighting and possibly killing each other downstairs, for he could just melt in her arms, forever.

He opened his eyes as she let go, and let his arms drop to his sides.

"Harry we must go downstairs and help! Harry they're here—_Death Eaters_!" she squealed. Harry said nothing. They could still hear the mad shrieks of the portrait of Lady Black. "Harry let's go! They need us!" Her eyes were getting round again as long curls fell in front of her face while she moved. And still Harry said nothing. It was as if the time stood still and he could focus on nothing except her. He was only aware of her at that moment in time. She put her small hands on his shoulders and shook him with the little force she could possess at the moment. She looked at him incredulously, not believing he would just stay there and wouldn't go and help. She shook him harder and locks of her long curls fell over her shoulders, and in spite of her alarmed gaze and tense, puckered face, Harry thought he had never seen a girl more beautiful in his entire life.

"Harry what's wrong with you!? Let's go!" she shouted at his face. "Harry!" She looked at him with bright, round brown eyes and darted past him. If he wouldn't help, she would. He wouldn't stop her from doing the right thing.

She took a few hasty steps away from him and at that moment Harry turned around and took her by an arm harshly. She winced slightly in pain but he didn't care. She tried to squirm out of his grip but she couldn't do it and she froze for a second wondering why he has holding her so tightly, wondering who this Harry was, wondering many things in her vast mind. Before she could try to release herself from his hold once more, Harry brought his lips down on her, catching her off guard, and pressed them firmly on top of hers.

At that moment he felt true bliss.

_Oh_...It had been too long since he last savored her kiss.

She kept trying to squirm in his arms, and Harry still didn't care. Her struggles weren't nearly strong enough.

Couldn't he understand that there was a battle raging down there!? And he was here, with her, doing the stupidest of things! Not only that, but Death Eaters somehow _got in_! Hermione's mind was frantic. She felt jittery and slightly afraid of his actions.

And couldn't she understand that it had been far much too long since he had kissed her?

The last time he had had her in his arms like this had been in mid-September. They had been covered in rain, wearing nothing but their Hogwarts uniform; white Oxfords, pleated skirts, and wool trousers plastered all over their bodies. They had been running with many other students because more Death Eaters had come. He had stayed to fight, perhaps face Voldemort once and for all.

Murder or be murdered.

But Hermione had seized his arm and pulled him away saying that she didn't want him dead, like Ron had been for a few hours already. At that time Harry couldn't think straight; he had watched dozens of people die that night, including many students and friends...Charlie, Molly and Arthur. Ron had caused him to almost go instantly mad. Ron was his best friend...his brother. He never saw who had killed him. If he would have, that person would be dead right now....

That was when he had decided that feelings were out of his reach...That happiness was out of bounds...That was when he had turned to Voldemort...When he had decided that how he felt about those he had loved in the past was wrong. The only feelings he could not change—even if he had tried, which he did—was the way he felt about Hermione.

It had been too much to bear. He only brought grief, sadness, loss, and trouble to those around him. And it was high time he stopped it all, even if it dammed him for eternity.

That night of the Hogwarts battle had not only been pivotal in his life but it changed the whole Wizarding world as well. That night almost half the Weasley family met their end. Hermione's parents had died a few days before the attack on the school. It had been too much destruction and death in such a short amount of time. The Light side had felt as if they were being crushed and burned, all within the span of a mere few seconds. It was just too much to take in. Too much to be held in a single human heart.

People didn't really understand that what it was like to be Harry Potter. Being a slave of your own name. A master of others. Existing only as the image people thought you were, even if they knew not a single damn thing. The Dark side was easier. It was easier to turn himself over for the sake of the ungrateful mass, for the sake of her…

He finally let got of Hermione. She was backing away, her hair fallen around her like a mass halo of brown honey. Her eyes, light and glazed, so incredibly easy for him to read. He had learned that was only found in the stupid or the innocent who didn't know any better; for her it was probably the latter. At the moment they were searching him, trying to detect _something _in him only to realize that they couldn't. Harry had learned to shut out all emotion from his face and body....What else would anyone expect to do in front of Voldemort...? In a sick way he thanked the Dark Lord for giving him discipline and a new life. Even if he knew that this new life was only a shadow of what he knew he was capable of living.

Only seconds had passed and Hermione still looked into his eyes, disconcerted by the fact that she could not read them. She found this very odd indeed, odd in a disturbing way. He was always so easy for her to read, even when no one else could—but now...."You're...different...." She said the two words with a tilt in her voice that sounded almost like denial. She wasn't going to ponder it at that precise moment though, for chaos surrounded them still and the Order needed her help. She turned around, wand held at the ready, and ran down the stairs.

Harry watched her go for a few seconds, mesmerized by her figure. Her hair was still bushy but only just a bit, and looked incredibly soft in long, brown curls that cascaded down her body; she had grown it out recently. For most of the previous years she only let it grow a little past her shoulders, but now it was almost down to her lower back. He never told her but her hair was one of his favorite things about her.

Harry inhaled and exhaled greatly and ran after her, easily catching up. They reached the scene, Harry one step behind her. Some people were on the floor, most were still fighting. Harry caught Knott's eye and nodded once. Then he pointed his wand at Hermione's back, which was about a foot and a half in front of him, and whispered, "_Stupefy_."

She swayed limply to the side and Harry instantly caught her in his arms. He scooped her up vaguely thinking that she was lighter than she should be, and took out the rock Knott had given him as the Portkey. He pressed Hermione very tightly against him and tapped the rock in his palm with his wand, triggering it to go off. Harry felt the familiar sensation of the hook behind his navel and a whirlwind of pure color swirl around him and the next thing he knew he had set feet firmly on stone. He looked around and saw they were in the underground room of his cottage.

He sighed looking at Hermione in his arms. She was still stunned. He walked to the four-poster bed and laid her down gently. He walked around the bed and when he reached the end of it he sat down and took her shoes off; they were strappy, brown leather sandals. After that he moved up the bed and sat next to her hip. He took her warm hand in his and kissed it lovingly. He ran his hand up her sleeve, feeling her soft skin, and as he went higher he felt goose bumps rise on her arm. Immediately he jerked his hand away, almost as if it the action had stung him. He paused and breathed in and out for a few moments before his eyes darted to her face. He put a hand on her neck and leaned down, kissing her soft lips. Just like he remembered, they were soft and warm. He could only imagine, just like the rest of her....

He grazed his hand over her shoulder. He realized her robe seemed a little big for her; the neckline was too lose. Somehow, Harry thought, this wasn't her robe. Not because she had lost weight, although he still thought that she might have. He stood up, looking at her from head to toe, examining her further. The sleeves seemed a bit long and the bottom of the black robe was tattered like its original owner was taller than Hermione by a few inches.

He sat down once more and put his hands on the laces of the bodice. He wanted to take it off of her, he couldn't really think of a reason why but he knew that he didn't want her to wear it. She deserved better than that scrap of cloth. He untied it and loosened it so he could remove the robe from her body. Being who he was, a man completely in love with this woman, he took his time taking in every inch of her body and womanly curves.

She wore a lilac slip under her robe, as Harry found out most girls did, well most _decent_ girls....because the girls at Madam Boshak's House in Knockturn Ally didn't wear anything under their rather promiscuous robes. In the past weeks, he had gone there with other younger Death Eaters, searching for the right woman for the night. Most of the whores were all in their early twenties...A small quantity were younger than him. He remembered one night Dolohov, who was probably in his fifties, had taken a fifteen-year old small, blonde girl with him. Harry had seen her face. It was as if she was resigned to do this for the rest of her life.

Every time he had visited Madam Boshak's House in Knockturn Ally, he'd search for a woman...any woman who looked even remotely like Hermione. It wasn't the real person he wanted, but pretending, _imagining_, helped, even a bit. At least it kept him from insanity. Once he had taken one of the girls, who was more at the bottom in popularity, because she had a dull, frizzy head of brown hair. The frizz reminded him of what Hermione used to look like when they were younger. The second time, he had chosen another girl; she had the sleek, straight, brown hair Hermione had the night of the Yule Ball—She had been a good choice that night. He had gone searching for the right woman so often that Madam Boshak already knew exactly what he wanted. She had said it was something odd, because the great Harry Potter never wanted one of the beautiful girls she had. She remarked how he was different indeed from her usual clientele, reminding him, with a rather smirking face, that he always chose the _plain_ girls.

He looked down at her face, her body, and her smooth legs, and didn't think there was anything _plain_ about her. Not in the least.

He sighed and looked around. He remembered stocking the wardrobe with glorious robes and shoes so he went to it and chose a rich robe of deep burgundy red. He held the robe up to see if it was of his liking at the moment. With a nod of approval he went back to Hermione once more.

It was a bit harder trying to put the robe back on her than it was to take it off. Once he got it over her shoulders he slid it down slowly, gently, he smoothed it down her thighs, caressing the soft creamy skin...Oh, it felt good to do so. This woman was perfect...and brilliant in every way.

He shook his head slightly and returned to her belly to tighten the strings in front. He stood up, admiring his work. The robe seemed to fit her well, tightening at all the right spots, giving him view once more of how wonderfully her body seemed to curve just right.

Somehow that same animalistic urge to ravish her body right then and there burst from his chest once more. In fact he had abruptly stretched out his arms to touch her, but stopped himself an inch away. This would have to wait. It was taking a lot of self control. He breathed quickly, his chest heaving. He didn't think he could restrain himself again, so he hastily Apparated to the Riddle House.

Setting foot on the rug he saw a Death Eater there with Voldemort, who as usual sat by the fire.

"Very well, McNair. You may leave," said Voldemort. The wheezy, hunch backed man leered at Harry before Disapparating away. Harry was left staring in disdain at the spot where he had been standing.

Harry walked close to Voldemort and turned to look at him.

"McNair just told me about the fight. Apparently no one was seriously injured, and you also got the girl fairly quick."

"Yes," Harry said, "she's in the Underground, still unconscious." He didn't elaborate anything about the fight.

"Very well. Leave her as she is. Wake her tomorrow and be here at eight pm. Do not tell her why she is here. I want to tell her…Do not be late."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: The First Taste**

Harry Apparated back in the Underground. He supposed he went there to be certain Hermione was still really there. This all seemed to be a bit too surreal...Well, a lot of things were that way lately.

He took the chair by the desk and placed it by the bed, to be next to her.

She looked blissfully unaware....How would she feel when she found out what was to happen? How would she react...? Basically she had been kidnapped by him, he realized. She'd hate to stay here, that was certain, but this was how it had to be.

He sighed wondering if she would still love him once everything was revealed.

That questioning thought came to him over and over. It wouldn't leave him alone. _Would_ she still love him? If she said no...Harry's eyes began to sting suddenly. He couldn't think he could bear that at all. The mere thought caused him such a great pain and constricted his chest.

He leaned down, kissed her for a few moments, took her small hands and held them within his own.

Soon after he made another Portkey, one that would take him back to his bedroom, and slipped it into his pocket. He put an Anti-Apparation jinx, and any other security charms and wards he could think of on the room and bathroom. He remembered to take her wand with him before taking the Portkey back to his bedroom.

"_Nox_."

A very restless night...

Very restless dreams...

X X X

Harry woke up late in the morning the next day. He stayed in bed for a while, sighing out into the air, dreading the moment he'd have to wake Hermione....and what was worse: the moment he'd have to take her to see Voldemort.

A few hours later he had fixed himself breakfast, ate, and was preparing something for Hermione. By the time he was done making the scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon, Harry took another Portkey into the Underground.

X X X

She jerked awake.

_Gods, where am I? _It was completely dark. She sat up and felt around; she touched around her and deduced she had been laying on a bed. She got up carefully; her alert state of mind telling her she did not want to step on something foreign. She knew this wasn't her room; her bed at Grimmauld Place wasn't as plushy as this mattress seemed to be. She was definitely somewhere she did not know, and she was starting to panic slightly.

_If it wasn't so dark_....

Her arms stretched out, she felt a table right beside the bed. She tried to open her eyes as wide as possible, but to no avail. There was nothing she could see. Still complete darkness....

She took deep breaths, trying to remember everything that had happened in the past that could be the reason as to why she was now lying somewhere both foreign and dark. The memories reeled their way into her head.

_Death Eaters...at Grimmauld Place....and....Harry....!_

She remembered he hadn't gone down the stairs to help her with the fight. He had seemed...different—She was sure of it. She had seen many Order members fighting Death Eaters...and then....darkness.

She took baby steps, trying to not bump into anything. Her hands trembled in front of her.

What if everyone was dead....? What if she was dead, _right now_?! …_Hermione, don't be so stupid! If you were dead, you wouldn't be breathing so fast_..._or so loud_. She tried to calm her breathing, but in the moment she decided this, she gasped out in pain; she had hit the desk in the corner. She felt around frantically and there was also a chair, both wooden, it seemed.

She tried to not think about the omnipresent darkness, trying to calm her breathing. She flung out her arms again, this time resolving to be more careful, but then—

A sudden beam of light caught her by surprise. She closed her eyes immediately and brought her hands up to her face and began to rub them, trying to soothe out the blinding and twinkling light from her eyes.

Harry instinctively looked at the bed first. When he saw no one there his eyes darted from corner to corner and finally rested on Hermione, who was standing in the space between the desk and the bed still rubbing her eyes.

Harry lit the candles around and walked to the bedside table and put the tray of food there. Then he quickly dashed to the other side of the bed where she was. She put her hands down and looked at him. She blinked and opened her eyes wide and smiled, thinking of how happy she was because he was there instead of some other sadistic, perhaps smirking, Death Eater.

Harry smiled fondly, unconsciously feeling that after tonight, this would be one of the few smiles he would receive from her.

This sad thought gave him the urgency to reach out and hold her, maybe she was feeling the same thing because they both flung out there arms at the same time, holding each other in a firm embrace. Harry closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of her for the time being. He breathed in her scent from the crook of her neck and sighed. Once they let go he brought out his hand and took hers, leading her to the bed and motioning for her to sit down, which she did, feeling that for the time being she was safe.

Before she started her rambling of questions Harry told her to eat her breakfast while they talked. She picked at it, not exactly feeling hungry after what had happened, but he insisted, telling her he wouldn't say another word until she ate it all.

Hermione quickly bolted it all down and drank the pumpkin juice from the goblet. The second she put it down she asked, "What happened?" but she didn't stop there. She stared at Harry sitting in front of her and said, "where did the Death Eaters come from? How could they get in? Is everyone alright? And where have you been this whole time, Harry? Why did you all of a sudden show up when the attack happened?" Harry stared at her the whole time she couldn't stop talking, but as she said the last sentence, he raised his hand and she fell silent, awaiting his answers.

"Hermione, don't worry, love," she smiled sweetly at the term of endearment. "Everyone is safe." She looked at him as if his reassuring words meant the world to her. "And don't worry because no one is hurt." Voldemort did tell Harry that the Death Eaters were to cause no permanent damage or killings. He was pretty sure they were all okay.

"Then let's go back to Grimmauld Place before they move the headquarters. The Order isn't safe anymore, not at Grimmauld," she said sadly. "Harry come with me. Let's go back now." She pleaded, taking one of his hands with hers. Harry looked into her face, her eyes alight with hope. Something hurt him terribly.

"We can't," he said flatly, and watched as her face slowly lost its innocent smile.

"Harry, what are you talking about? Of course we can," she said in a low tone. Her eyes were again trying to search him.

Harry stood up, his back facing her, and walked towards the foot of the bed. He didn't like being analyzed like one of those school tests, the ones she'd always excel in.

Hermione wouldn't stand for his silence and also got up, hastily coming to a stop in front of him.

"Harry, say something," she said looking into his face. His eyes were averted down to the ground. She waited, but no response came from him. "Harry, look at me!" she said forcefully. "Harry why are you acting this way?!"

_If only you knew_.....

Harry looked into her eyes; they were desperate for truth. "Forgive me, Hermione," he whispered sadly. She instantly softened her face.

"Forgive you? Forgive you for what? Harry, you've done nothing wrong," she said gently, putting her soft, warm hand on his cold cheek. She took in his appearance. He seemed to of grown taller, or perhaps he was just thinner. His skin looked a little sallow, his eyes a darker shade of green than she remembered. His hair was still messy as ever, if just a bit longer. He had a permanent brooding expression on his face and an aura of dark mystery surrounded him. She didn't know if he knew this about himself but it radiated of his body all around and frankly she didn't like it. She missed the old Harry, the younger Harry from school. She had a sudden thought of nostalgia and it was very sad, she missed the children they used to be.

"For the past," he responded. "…Everything I did...I've done." Hermione looked at him, her eyes willing him to believe he was great. She smiled, shaking her head slowly, making a couple locks of her long brown hair fall into her face; Harry seized them gently and placed them behind her ear. "I'm sorry," he said, leaning his head down. "I'm sorry," he murmured again before pressing his lips softly on hers. She shuffled her feet and her hips swayed gently against him, touching him on their own accord.

He lazily ran his tongue all over her mouth. Again, it had felt so long since he had last tasted her. So rich, so powerful, much more intoxicating than firewhisky had ever been, he could drown. It was like a fever, catching his whole body off guard and setting it in an uncontrollable fire.

Nothing could ever stop him from loving her, nothing.

He nibbled on her bottom lip, harder and faster. Oh God, he couldn't get enough! His tongue raged inside her mouth, trying to taste every corner. His hands moved all around her back, trying to bring her closer. Her hands tangled in his raven hair. His hands went down her hips, desperately trying to bring every pore as close as possible—

She broke them apart. Foreheads resting against each other. His ragged breath hitting her skin. Her panting heard everywhere in the room.

She smiled, looking down. Harry grinned also, still holding her close and looking at the beautiful pink tint on her cheeks. This was when she looked the most beautiful to him.

She took one of his hands and brought him to the bed, motioning for him to sit down with her. He did, still grinning like a boy at Christmas morning. He stared at her profile as she looked all around the room.

"Harry, where are we?" she asked, still looking about.

"Somewhere safe," he answered her, his voice deep.

She turned to look at him and nodded. "Yes, safe, but I mean location?"

Harry sighed. It didn't matter if she knew where they were. There was no way she could ever get out. "We're in Romania...." He left the sentence hanging and watched as her eyes went very round in surprise.

"Why? What are we doing here? Harry lets go back to Grimmauld Place already! I know that it's risky, the journey, but we can't stay around here and not try! We must find a way to get to the Order before they move Headquarters." Again she was on the subject of leaving. She stood up and faced him. Harry couldn't tell her she could _never_ leave.

He braced himself. "We can't...leave," he said a in low tone.

Hermione didn't even want to ponder what he meant by that so instead she looked down at herself and searched her pockets. She gasped when she realized she didn't have any. "Where's my robe?" she asked angrily. It seemed she hadn't noticed she was wearing something else.

"It didn't suit you," Harry said simply.

"Where's my wand?!" she huffed, glaring at him.

"You won't need it," Harry said flatly.

"Are you mad?! Harry, Grimmauld Place was attacked by Death Eaters! We're stuck in Romania, Merlin knows where! And you're telling me I won't need my _wand_?!" Her face was pinched angrily and her glaring eyes scrutinized his face.

Harry merely nodded.

"Where is my robe?" she asked forcefully, her cheeks slightly pink.

"I took it off you," he said simply and stood up, facing her blushing scarlet face. That look made him smiled faintly. Another urge to make her breathless again and again, to feel her soft skin on his skin, burst forth from him. He could barely contain keeping his flat demeanor. "It was a poor robe. I told you it didn't suit you."

Hermione felt the heat rising in her face at the thought of Harry undressing her. Good thing she was unconscious. If she hadn't been it would of been beyond embarrassing. He was her _boyfriend_, even if she felt that term didn't really add up all he was to her; her best friend and so much more. He was her true love, but Hermione was still a shy girl when it came to _those _kinds of things. All she had ever done with him was snog and a little bit of light petting but that was it, and she felt self-conscious about him seeing her in her knickers.

But then again if she had been awake, he wouldn't have dared to take her clothes off.

There was a slightly awkward pause that Hermione broke after a moment. "It was Tonks' robe" she muttered, looking away from his eyes. There was another slightly awkward pause in which Harry only stared at her. She was still looking anywhere else other than his face, and he wondered if things had gotten worse than he had originally thought after he left.

Of course her parents had died a couple weeks before but had they left her with anything at all? He was pretty sure their home had been destroyed. The Dark Mark had been over the roof of the house, yes that was correct. Then perhaps it was true she had no other resources. Their death must have been so sudden to her parents. They probably had had no time set any sort of will. She probably had little money, and knew it was worth spending it on wiser things. Perhaps she didn't find it necessary to buy new robes, and that's why she had to wear _those_. Not that Tonks wouldn't be kind enough to give Hermione a robe if she was in need, but Tonks was a rougher, a fighter, and she didn't really bother with such trivial things as clothes, at least not the way Ginny did. But _Hermione _deserved better...Much better.

While Harry was thinking of all these things Hermione was thinking of Apparating out. She was already used to it and had no problems with it.

_Then why isn't it working right now_.....?

"It won't work," Harry said suddenly, seeing what she was trying to do. "Anti-Apparation jinx," he said with a lift of a corner of his mouth. Hermione wondered why he was acting so strange.

She breathed deeply and swallowed any misgivings she was feeling. "Harry, I want to get out of here this instant," she said through clenched teeth, glaring at him, her voice a little dangerous and low. Looking into her eyes, the ferocious being within her, he knew he couldn't tell her she could _never_ leave.

He disappeared, leaving Hermione staring at the spot he had been an instant ago.

He appeared in his bedroom, dropping the useless Portkey into a trashcan.

He would still have to go back to her before eight o'clock this evening, he knew that, but it was barely noon, and he'd have to amuse himself until then. Only there was nothing that entertained him anymore.

He walked out of his room and took a bottle of firewhisky from a kitchen cabinet. He then proceeded to go into the living room attached to the kitchen and settle on the couch. He took a swig from the bottle, letting his thoughts reel.

It had been quite a few times he had felt that animalistic urge burst from his chest. Drinking was his only vice, but he never thought he'd make such a habit out of these dark thoughts, over and over. It made him feel disgusted with himself to even think he could ever take and abuse her that way...

She would never let him.

_Like that would matter_...

That intruding thought made him feel even more sick with himself.

He took another long drink.

He knew, physically, she was no match for him. Like shooting a sitting duck. In fact, Defense Against the Dark Arts had been her worst subject. It was the only E in all her O O.W.L marks.

And she was woman.

Oh, _great_. Now he was just being the sexist bastard he knew Voldemort was...But the fact that she is a girl only made her weaker in comparison next to him. He could take her anytime he wanted to, or anytime she wanted for that matter, he thought with a slight smirk on his features.

But it was these feelings, these thoughts, that made him feel ashamed of himself. Was he turning out every bit as arrogant as his father...? Who, for all he knew, actually forced his mother into marrying him after all. Would Hermione become his Lily?

He swallowed another large swig.

Oh Gods, but every time he saw her…

He couldn't hold it in much longer, he knew so. It was a matter of days before it'd become too unbearable and he's just give in...and have her completely.

Another ample drink.

Every time she spoke, it was like the Veela dancing…but she wasn't Veela at all, far from it. It was all natural. She was like a bashful child in his presence. She was so good…she didn't even know it. Certainly she had no idea of everything that coursed through his body when she was present. That need, that want to just have her as close as possible, to just _touch _her, every bit of her.

Harry laughed softly, listening to the crackling fire, and swallowing more firewhisky from the bottle. He had never felt so old.

Slowly, his thoughts still reeling about Hermione, slowly, he drifted to sleep.

* * *

Hey guys! thanks for all the reviews you submitted last chapter! means a lot to me! some of you wondered why Harry was willing to hand over Hermione to Voldy, but i assure you that it will become clear eventually :) now if you don't mind feeding me some more encouragement, i would love it if you reviewed! Xx


End file.
